


It's Not Easy Being Green-Blooded

by Nicnac



Series: Many Intersecting Planes [12]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 19:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8679676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicnac/pseuds/Nicnac
Summary: Five times Spock found his heritage a disadvantage, and one time it all came together.





	

1

The house had fallen silent in the past 4.26 minutes, but Spock almost imagined he could still hear the echoes of his parents’ argument.

Spock, still somewhat fresh off his _kahs-whan_ and his choice to devote himself fully to the Vulcan way, immediately chided himself for that thought. Imagining things was merely another way of denying the reality of the situation, and therefore was not logical.

Spock was attempting to mediate on why he had been imagining such things when there was a soft knock on his door. “You may enter,” Spock called, knowing even before the door opened that it would be his mother – she had not yet become accustomed to the idea that Spock’s application of Vulcan emotional control meant that he no longer needed comforting after situations that would cause emotional stress in a purely human child.

Spock looked up to see his mother waiting patiently in the doorway, and he nodded to affirm his earlier invitation in. His mother was quite adamant about Spock having his own personal space that no one, not even Spock’s father, or especially herself, could intrude upon without permission. She and his Uncle Mycroft had both taught Spock from a very young age how important it was that a dragon have his or her own lair, and Spock had learned for himself the potential repercussions of one dragon intruding upon another’s space during a particularly volatile visit with his maternal cousins on Earth.

“I suppose you must have heard our argument,” his mother said, settling herself lightly down on his bed.

“A number of your remarks were very loud; you were becoming quite emotional,” Spock responded, not chiding her for her behavior, because as a child it was not his place to correct his elders, especially his parents, but merely making an observation. Of course, as a human his mother was allowed a greater expression of emotion than a Vulcan, but as someone with dragon heritage, even as distant as it was, it was important that she watch her temper. _Vulcan emotions may run deep_ , Spock’s mother had told him on countless occasions, _but there isn’t a creature in this or any other universe that can feel rage as deeply and all-consumingly as a dragon_.

“I was a little bit. I was planning on spending a bit of time this evening meditating, but I wanted to come check on you first,” she said.

“As a Vulcan I do not feel emotionally distressed, and as such, do not need to be checked on,” Spock told her. For a second, he thought he might have let his tone slip into chiding after all, but he dismissed the notion when Amanda smiled, fond and amused, at him.

“Of course. Please excuse me my human silliness.” His mother’s eyes danced with mirth and Spock suspected he was being teased. He did not scowl at her, because an emotional expression such as that would be unbecoming of a Vulcan.

Her expression turned somber a moment later of its own accord, as she continued speaking. “There’s something else I wanted to tell you as well. Your Uncle Mycroft isn’t going to be coming to stay later this week after all. You and I will go and meet him in the city for a few hours, but I’m afraid that’s going to be it this time.”

Spock was not pleased by this news. The two day visit that had been the previous plan already seemed exceedingly short to his mind, and it did not please him to have it cut even shorter. He did not let that show, however, merely nodding and asking in a neutral tone, “Did Uncle Mycroft have some necessary business come up?” He knew his relative – not his actual uncle, despite his mother’s insistence that Spock use that term – had a career with an importance that was at least on par with Spock own father’s and one with a greater frequency of emergencies than most.

“No, your Uncle Mycroft is still available as far as I know.” His mother’s lips pursed as she considered Spock for a long moment. “Well, I’m sure Sarek will tell you himself come morning anyway,” she said, speaking to herself more that Spock. “Your visit with Uncle Mycroft has been curtailed because your father believes him to be a bad influence. He was alright with it before – or willing to tolerate it, rather, as it turns out – when you were still figuring yourself out, but now that you’ve committed to the Vulcan way, he’d prefer Uncle Mycroft not be allowed to fill your head with fairy tales and nonsense about dragons.”

“Information about dragons isn’t nonsense, it is part of my heritage,” Spock objected. He let the comment about fairy tales stand as _The Hobbit_ , despite also being a somewhat inaccurate retelling of historical events in another universe, could be reasonably be classified as such.

“Assuming that one believes that alternate universes exist, that these alternate universes have a way of becoming stories in our own universe, that of those alternate universes at least one exists that contains things such as wizards and magic and sapient dragons, that a wizard and a dragon turned human-formed by magic from that alternate universe could be picked up and transported by a man in a blue box to this universe where they’re characters in a children’s story, and that once here the dragon would be capable of reproducing with a normal humans. Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I suppose if a human and a Vulcan could do it, a dragon having a child with a human isn’t all that far-fetched. But you can see how the rest might be rather difficult to believe without proof. Your father has therefore decided that the more logical conclusion is Uncle Mycroft suffers from a very unusual and specific sort of delusion.”

“You believe Uncle Mycroft to be telling the truth,” Spock pointed out.

“Yes, but I’ve _felt_ it,” his mother responded, her voice suffused with that self-same feeling. “However, that sort of feeling is neither proof, nor is it something your father has a proper frame of reference for.”

“But Mother,” Spock insisted, “you are my father’s wife. That would necessarily imply that he trusts you.”

“Maybe not necessarily, but one would certainly hope so.”

“And you trust that Uncle Mycroft is telling the truth both as he knows it and as it really exists,” Spock continued.

“Yes,” his mother agreed.

“Therefore, if father trusts you and if you trust Uncle Mycroft, father should also trust Uncle Mycroft.” Spock, having not particularly applied himself to the subject as well as he could have until recently, was only in the 63rd percentile in logic amongst the other Vulcan children of his age group, but this, if a then b and if b then c, therefore if a then c, was one of the most basic of concepts. It was almost math (if a equals b and b equals, c then a equals c), and in that subject Spock was in the 98th percentile.

“I’m afraid that’s not how Vulcan logic works, dear,” his mother said delicately.

“Then how does it work?” Spock asked.

“If I knew the answer to that, I doubt your father and I would have spent half the evening arguing with each other,” she said, a wry note to her voice. “You’ll have to ask him to explain it to you; I’m afraid this might be an instance where I don’t have a proper frame of reference.

“I should let you get to bed,” his mother said after another moment of silence. She smiled at him and briefly ruffled her hand through his hair – Spock indulged her in this, knowing that as a human she had an emotional need for physical affection. “I’ll ask your father to speak with you in the morning, if you like.”

“Thank you mother,” Spock said.

“Good night, dear.” His mother rose from his bed and went to leave, but just as she was about to cross the threshold into the hallway, Spock called out to her again. “Yes?"

Spock steeled his resolve; it was still not his place to question the decisions of his parents, but he was certain his mother would listen without censure, and that she would find a way to make Spock’s opinions known to his father in a reasonable fashion. “I do not think it is the right decision, to forbid me contact with my relative.”

His mother smiled at him again, but this time the expression seemed sad, almost. “There are a great many things about the Vulcan way to recommend it as a lifestyle choice, but it is far from perfect. One thing you’ll learn, I hope, is that a decision may be the logical one, but that doesn’t mean it’s the right one.”

2

Spock looked up from the bridge console he had been running diagnostics on when an unfamiliar voice called his name. That in itself wasn’t too unusual as there were a number of engineers from Headquarters with whom Spock was not well acquainted who were helping with the repairs on the _Enterprise_ , though he would normally expect to be addressed by his rank in that case, not his name alone. But the person who had addressed him, in addition to being unfamiliar, was also in civilian clothes, which seemed to confirm that he wasn’t engineer.

Furthermore, Spock was quite certain that none of Starfleet’s engineers would be so unprofessional as to come up and hug a commanding officer.

“Don’t _hug_ the Vulcans. I really shouldn’t have to be telling you that, since of the two of us, you’re not the one who just woke up from being frozen for a couple centuries,” said Dr. Watson, who had apparently entered the bridge along with the stranger. Because of Dr. Watson’s seeming familiarity with the individual, Spock elected to skip giving him the nerve pinch, and instead merely freed himself from the man’s hold.

“Do you know this man, Dr. Watson?” Spock asked.

The man placed one hand against his chest in a fairly melodramatic manner. “I’m hurt, Spock. It’s me, your Grandpa Jack.”

“I have never met you before in my life, and neither of my grandfathers, and indeed none of my relatives, are named Jack,” Spock informed him, before turning back to Dr. Watson. “My question, doctor.”

“This is my dad, Jack Harkness,” Dr. Watson replied. Spock raised a single eyebrow at him; this Jack hardly looked old enough to be Dr. Watson’s father. “We’re both a little bit immortal,” added Dr. Watson by way of explanation.

Now that he mentioned it, Spock did recall Uncle Mycroft saying something along those lines once when he had mentioned Sherlock’s companion. “You are laboring under a misapprehension,” Spock told Mr. Harkness. “I am descended from Sherlock, but I bear no blood relation to Dr. Watson or, by extension, yourself.”

“Has nobody around here ever heard of stepchildren?” Mr. Harkness asked.

Spock was of course familiar with the concept, but it did not seem to apply in this situation as to Spock’s knowledge Dr. Watson and Sherlock had never been married or officially joined in any respect. Before Spock could say as much, the doors to the tubolift opened and Spock felt the tension that he had been containing with no small amount of effort on his part fade away almost instantly. He needed to get better at controlling his draconic responses around Jim, but at present he was finding that much more difficult than he had ever had before the… incident in the warp core.

“There you both are. I know Scotty is a bit of a talker when he gets on the subject of his engines, but you two should have waited for me. Actually, how did you both find your way to the bridge anyway?” Jim said, addressing Dr. Watson and Mr. Harkness.

“I have my methods,” Mr. Harkness said, giving Jim what Spock believed to be a flirtatious look, which a part of Spock fond innately unacceptable. He quickly suppressed that emotion.

“He means he flirted with one of the people working here and got her to tell us,” Dr. Watson added with an exasperated air.

“Captain, I presume that these two are your guests. May I remind you that civilians are not allowed aboard the _Enterprise_ at the moment?” Spock said.

“Don’t worry, I gave Mycroft a call before Scotty beamed us up and he said it was fine,” Jim said, and Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement. Contacting Uncle Mycroft directly was hardly following the proper channels, but there was no doubt that Sherringford Harrison would get the appropriate permissions put into place.

“No, what he said was that I was ‘mostly harmless,’ which I take offense to. Do you know how many times I’ve stared down the end of the world or the universe and won?” Mr. Harkness said.

“I know how many times you’ve done that without back-up,” Dr. Watson said, forming a zero with his fingers.

“Jeez Johnny, don’t make me look bad in front of the grandkid; he’ll stop looking up to me,” Mr. Harkness said.

Spock turned to raise his eyebrow at Jim, who Spock had somehow ended up standing directly next to, and Jim returned the expression with a sheepish grin. “Look, I know he’s a bit… volatile for your tastes,” Jim said to him in an undertone, “but he’s your family, sort of. And you get along so well with Mycroft, so I just thought you might want more family.” Spock had been somewhat mistaken it seemed. Jim’s expression wasn’t just sheepish, it was also hopeful, as he waited to see how Spock would take what had apparently been a gesture of friendship on his part.

_Kaiidth_ , Spock thought, resigning himself to the situation. After all, Jack could hardly be a more troublesome relative than Sybock.

3

“I do not understand,” Spock said. The meaning of Nyota’s words were clear enough – he was much better at understanding human idioms than he pretended to be – but he couldn’t comprehend the why of them at all. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” Nyota said, her voice adamant, but soft too, the very duality that had attracted Spock to her in the first place. “I’m not going to say it’s not you, it’s me, because, well firstly it’s cliché as hell, but also I think it’s both of us. But that doesn’t mean either of us has done anything wrong.”

“I still do not understand,” Spock repeated. “Why do you wish to terminate our romantic relationship?”

Nyota sighed, and leaned a bit further into her chair. The two of them were in Spock’s quarters having just finished a meal together, as was their custom at least once a week – Nyota called it date night. Spock had been finding the evening quite pleasant, until 1.2 minutes ago when Nyota had expressed a desire for the two of them to ‘break up.’

“I knew when we first got together that I was going to come in second to your work. And I was, am okay with that. Anything else would be hypocritical of me.” Spock nodded in agreement; they both came at it from different places, Nyota from ambition and a desire to further her career, and Spock from a Vulcan sense of discipline and obligation to his duty, but they both understood that work was the other’s first priority. It was another reason that Spock had decided that Nyota made the ideal partner.

“But lately, I…” Nyota paused again, as though to order her thoughts. “I can handle being second to a job or even some sort of ideal or principle, that’s not a problem for me. But I don’t want to be third, and I certainly don’t want to come in second to another person. I need to be more than that, and you deserve someone who can accept your priorities as they are. I don’t want to force you to try and change to that extent to fit my needs; that sort of thing should happen organically, or not at all.”

“I am not certain where your misapprehension is coming from, but I assure you, there is no one else that I have even considered as a suitable romantic partner, much less one that I favor over you,” Spock said.

“I know that, and I hope you didn’t think I was implying that I thought you were cheating on me. You’re much too good a person to do anything like that. I mean, look at how upfront you were with me about T’Pring, and she was just your arranged fiancé if nothing better came along.” Spock made a small sound of agreement, though it seemed to him that Nyota still did not quite fully comprehend the nature of the bond that had existed between him and T’Pring, probably because he could not bring himself to explain _pon farr_ to her yet. It was a moot point now anyway, with T’Pring’s death during the destruction of Vulcan. “But I didn’t say there was another potential romantic partner you had your eye on, I said there was someone who was more important to you than me. Let me ask you a question: if Jim and I were both unconscious in a burning building and you only had time to run in and save one of us, which would you save?”

Spock was somewhat nonplussed by the apparent abrupt change in topic, but he answered the question. “Vulcan strength is more than capable of carrying two adult humans, especially for the presumably relatively short distance it would take to remove you both from potential harm.”

Nyota rolled her eyes at him, from which Spock surmised there was a point to her question that he had missed. “Imagine one of your arms is broken. Or something, the idea is you can only save one of us and I’m asking to tell me which one of us you would choose.”

Spock considered the question for a moment or two, until he was certain he had divined what Nyota was trying to get at with this line of discussion. “I do not believe that is a fair question. In the circumstance you describe it is reasonably likely that my draconic instincts, which view Jim as a treasure that I have already lost once, would override my ability to think clearly and logically. But I am a Vulcan, and I do not think I should be judged on the basis of instinct.”

Nyota nodded. “That’s fair. I’ll ask a different question then. Let’s say for some reason, I can’t think of a plausible one right now, you had to choose between never making music with me again or never playing chess with Jim again. Which would you give up?”

Spock found the answer to that question perturbing, less for the answer in itself, and more due to the speed at which he came to it, as though the alternative wasn’t even worth considering. “I would give up the music with you,” Spock answered promptly because as a Vulcan he would not lie, and Nyota did not deserve any prevarication from him. Nyota smiled in response, but it did not seem like the typical smile to denote happiness. While Spock was no expert on the matters of emotion, he had made a study of Nyota in particular, and he was fairly certain that this smile reflected a hypothesis supported, when she would had rather seen it proven false.

“But that does not mean I have any romantic feeling for Jim. I do not,” Spock added.

Nyota raised her hands in placating gesture. Spock was a Vulcan; he did not need to be placated. “I already said I believe you, didn’t I? You wouldn’t lie to me, and it would be highly presumptuous of me to try and tell you what the nature of your regard for someone else was. You say you consider Jim a friend and a treasure, whatever that means for you, so that’s what he is. If I were a bigger person, that might be enough for me, but I’m just a small ordinary person, and it isn’t.”

“You are neither ordinary, not small. You are one of the best people I have ever become acquainted with.”

This time Nyota’s was born of genuine happiness and pleasure at the compliment. “I would say the same about you.  Which is exactly why you deserve someone who accepts all of you, including how important Jim is to you.”

The Vulcan in Spock appreciated the logic of Nyota’s argument. Certainly, with all the facts laid out thus, it made more sense for Spock to seek a different romantic partner, one who would not expect more than Spock was willing or able to give. T’Pring may have passed, but Spock could request that his father seek out a match for him with another Vulcan woman like her, one who would only desire that Spock fulfill his duties to her as her husband, and would not care that Spock spent the majority of his time tending to his responsibilities with Starfleet or his friendship with Jim. It would be an advantageous arrangement for Nyota as well, since it would free her of her obligation to him, so she could seek out another partner that would be able to meet her emotional needs.

The one hundred and twenty-seven, two hundred and fifty-sixth of him that was human, however – he did not understand how any race of beings could survive when they felt such emotional pain. Surely he had felt things with greater depth before, but not, he thought, with such acuteness. Or perhaps it was not depth or acuteness that plagued him now, but the lack of a Nero or a Khan, because with no outward source to direct his rage at, it seemed that all his pain had doubled back inward upon himself.

But Spock was a Vulcan, by choice if not wholly by blood, and whatever shameful human emotions he might be feeling at the moment, his outward countenance did not betray them. “I accept the logic of your proposal and agree to it. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I would appreciate some time alone to meditate, so that I might… properly assimilate the change in our relationship status.”

“Of course,” Nyota said, rising from her seat to leave. “I hope we can still be friends.”

The idea of being just friends with Nyota seemed impossible to Spock at the moment, but he was aware that belief was more likely a reflection of his current lack of emotional control than it was one of his true preferences. “That would be my hope as well, for the future,” Spock finally allowed.

It seemed that Nyota’s singular aural sensitivity extended beyond words that were spoken aloud, for her response to Spock’s comment was a nod and an assurance of “Whenever you’re ready.”

She took her leave, and a few moments later, Spock rose from his seat as well, preparing himself for a long evening of meditation.

4

Spock wasn’t consciously aware of crossing the banquet hall; it seemed to him as though one second he had spotted Jim across the way, standing unacceptably close to one of the Lamrian people, and being flirted with, and one second later Spock was standing alongside Jim, using all of his Vulcan control not to glare in fury at the woman who had been attempting to steal Spock’s treasure. He was, however, aware of his loss of focus, and his time sense was able to assure him that it had taken a reasonable five point six seconds to reach Jim from where Spock had previously been standing, so Spock was not in nearly as bad of condition as he could have been.

“Spock!” Jim said, sounding delighted by Spock’s presence. “Have you met Sethria, the Ambassador’s daughter? Sethria, this is my First Officer, Commander Spock.” During this speech Jim, as humans often do, used large gestures to indicate the parties he was introducing, using both hands, palms open and facing up, to point toward Sethria, then grasping Spock on the upper arm. The latter action necessitated that Jim take a half step closer to Spock, in turn moving himself 6.23 centimeters away from Sethria. Furthermore, rather than simply releasing Spock’s bicep, he let his hand glide, seemingly causal, down Spock’s arm, resulting in Jim’s fingers lightly and briefly brushing against the back of Spock’s hand. None of these actions were an accident.

Jim had taken the revelation of Spock’s heritage and his own role in the more primal, draconic regions of Spock’s mind as a piece of treasure, with remarkable aplomb. And after it was discovered that proximity to Smaug had caused certain hormonal changes in Spock, ones that made his dragon side less susceptible to his Vulcan controls, Jim began to make changes in his own behavior, designed to keep Spock’s draconic emotions calm. Spock had protested this initially, believing that since they were his emotions, it was his responsibility to keep them under control, not Jim’s or anyone else’s. Jim had, in turn, argued that the small behavioral adjustments he was making required far less effort and sacrifice from him – little and none, respectively – than would otherwise be required of Spock to adequately control his emotions. Indeed, Spock had noted a 33.6% increase in the amount of meditation he needed during the window between when his blood hormone chemistry had changed and when Jim had made the adjustments to his behavior. So Spock had conceded the argument to Jim, in part because Spock could appreciate the merits of his Captain’s point, and in part because Spock was unconvinced that he would have been able to change Jim’s mind regardless: at the end of the day there was only so much control that any given individual had over another’s behavior, and Jim was a particularly stubborn individual.

Soothed by the brief telepathic contact with Jim – Spock’s shields were up, as that was a point of particular concern for Jim, especially over the last 5.4 months, but even so, the physical contact allowed Spock to perceive a sort of trace or signature that was uniquely Jim – Spock nodded a greeting to ~~the interloper~~ Jim’s companion. “Pleased to meet you.”

“And you as well,” Sethria replied graciously, the silvery-grey of her skin flushing lavender around what could be considered the collar bone in the Lamrian. From what Spock recalled, such vasodilation was an indicator emotion in a Lamrian and Spock thought Sethria was feeling, in order of least likely to most, either anger, arousal, or embarrassment. “Captain, why didn’t you tell me you were already joined? I hope didn’t make you uncomfortable with my forwardness.”

Spock went to correct her misapprehension of the situation, but was beat to it by Jim. “Not at all. Really, I was just flattered that such a lovely being would be interested, even if I can’t and don’t reciprocate. But if you’ll excuse my forwardness for a moment, I’d be happy to let you know that Lieutenant Evans is most certainly not joined,” Jim said, indicating the crewman in question, who bore a passing resemblance to Jim, certainly from the perspective of a Lamrian.

“Your forwardness is appreciated,” Sethria replied, her voice lilting with a show of humor. “Now I believe I’ll excuse myself and leave you to your spouse. Captain, Commander.” Sethria executed two small bows in their direction, which Jim and Spock returned in kind, then walked off in the direction of Lieutenant Evans.

“Captain, we are not a joined pair,” Spock protested once Sethria was out of earshot.

“Yeah, I know Spock.” There was a certain negative tone to Jim’s voice, and Spock surmised that he was annoyed at Spock for stating the obvious.

“I only mention it, because you have been known to have unusual and unprecedented reactions to alien foods before, and I wanted to be certain you weren’t hallucinating or, perhaps, suffering from amnesia.”

Jim huffed a laugh, and Spock was pleased to have restored his Captain’s good humor. “Nope, no weird food allergies here. For once, everything seems to be going smoothly.”

“Indeed,” Spock agreed. He paused to consider whether his next question, wondering if it was perhaps too personal, before continuing on anyway. “I estimate that there was an eighty-three point seven percent chance that Sethria would have engaged in intercourse with you, had you corrected his mistake.”

“Really? Only eighty-three point seven? I was thinking it was at least ninety six. Point two. She seemed pretty ready to go. Well, I wish Evans luck.”

Spock refocused the subject back to the matter at hand. “You have yet to answer my question.”

“Probably because, despite the pointed comments, you have yet to ask one,” Jim remarked, sounding amused.

Spock reviewed their prior conversation in his head, and internally conceded that he had not specifically verbalized to Jim the information he desired. “Why did you not correct Sethria’s mistaken impression?”

Jim shrugged. “I guess it just seemed like the quickest and most polite way to get rid of her.”

“That much I was able to surmise. But it does not explain why you felt the need to get rid of her.”

“Well, logically,” Jim said, his mouth quirking up in that characteristic way of his, “if I was feeling the need, that was because the need existed.”

“That answer is neither clarifying nor logical. Logically, given that it has been three point six months since our last shore leave and your last chance to engage in sexual intercourse, which is necessary to the optimal functioning of a human, you should have desired her to stay.”

“Okay, I’m not even going to mention how that could be taken as a grossly offensive generalization, since I’m pretty sure that by ‘a human’ you just meant me, but I do want to point out that you’re confusing sexual intercourse with sexual release. And while I’ll admit that the latter probably is necessary to my optimal functioning, having sex is only one, admittedly highly enjoyable, way to achieve that. Since you were clearly less than thrilled with the idea of me trying to hook up with Sethria, I’ll just take care of myself tonight.”

Spock frowned. “I believe we agreed that you would not be making any sacrifices for the sake of assisting me with maintaining my emotional control.”

“No, I told you that assisting you with your emotional control wouldn’t require me to make any sacrifices,” Jim corrected.

“I fail to see the distinction.”

“Yes, well that’s kind of what I was aiming for,” Jim muttered. The comment was clearly not meant for Spock, even though Jim had said it loud enough that Spock believed even the relatively weaker human hearing would have been able to pick it up, so Spock refrained from commenting on the illogic of saying something with the express purpose of the other party not understanding. Then Jim sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Look, what do you think the difference is between a sacrifice and an opportunity cost?

“An intriguing question,” Spock responded. “Both terms refer to a loss incurred in exchanged for a gain but opportunity cost refers to the loss of only a potential gain, where as a sacrifice typically assumes that something of value is being given up, implying not just a potential, but a reality. Are you attempting to imply that because engaging in intercourse with Sethria was still only a potential at the time that I arrived that it would represent an opportunity cost of getting her to leave, rather than a sacrifice?”

“No, I mean that’s actually a really good point, but that’s not what I was getting at,” Jim said. “I was more talking about the ‘something of value’ bit of it. Giving something up is only a sacrifice if what you’re giving up has a value you to you.”

“Are you attempting to convince me that you do not value sexual intercourse?” Spock asked, allowing the faintest notes of disbelief color his tone. While Jim was not nearly as promiscuous as rumors might imply, his friend had made no secret of his enjoyment of sexual intimacy.

“No, I don’t think I’m convincing anyone of that,” Jim said with a good natured laugh. “But keep in mind that, for human’s at least, value is a relative thing. Something that seems valuable in itself may appear less so when compared to something else of much greater value. So what I’m trying to get at here is that what I gave up when I convinced Sethria to go after Evans was meaningless sex, the potential for meaningless sex even. And while I’ll readily admit to enjoying in indulging in meaningless sex on occasion, giving it up to help ensure your emotional stability could never be a sacrifice.”

There was, Spock supposed, a certain logic to Jim’s assertion, if one was willing to take the very human and emotional concept of the relative values of things as a given. But even if Jim was making what was, from his perspective, the logical choice, it was still due to Spock’s failure to control the dragon part of himself that a choice needed to be made. It was not fair to Spock’s friend, and Spock resolved to apply himself more thoroughly to containing his emotions in the future.

5

Spock breathed in very slowly, and then equally slowly let it back out. Such measured breaths marked the rise back to full awareness of his surroundings at end of a meditation session, or at least they should after he had been attempting to meditate for 2.63 hours. Attempting being the key word, because he had yet been able to reach any of the deeper levels of meditation, and even his lighter trances didn’t last, the longest one having been 7.4 minutes in duration. It was a shameful lapse of his Vulcan controls over his thoughts and feelings – and that shame he felt at the lapse certainly wasn’t improving matters any.  But how was he supposed to sort through all these emotions that had seemed to rise from deep within him as a pre-tangled mass when there didn’t seem to be any sense to them.

That wasn’t entirely true. There was one very obvious solution to the riddle these feelings presented to him, but he was ignoring it, quite illogically he admitted, in the hopes that he might find some other explanation and so disprove the other theory without ever having to think it to himself.

As he said, illogical. The only way to disprove a hypothesis was to test it. So test it, and then once it was proven false he might be able to meditate properly and regain control over himself. Spock closed his eyes, took a deep breath in, and turned his thoughts toward Jim.

First, there was respect and trust, both which were logical and perfectly acceptable ways to regard his captain. All Spock’s senior officers were due some degree of respect from him, unless they undertook such action that proved themselves unworthy of their rank or commission. Captain Kirk had done no such thing, indeed, to the contrary, he proved himself to be a highly proficient captain, if more than a little unorthodox to Vulcan sensibilities. And because Captain Kirk had proved himself, it was also logical that Spock trust him. These thoughts toward his captain were accepted, put into their proper order in his mind, and then Spock moved on to the next.

_Needwanttakehave_. These emotions – for as much as Spock found it distasteful, there was no denying that these were emotions at their basest and most primal – could not be cast out, nor could they be suppressed as Spock had been successfully doing before the hormonal change that had brought his draconic nature to the forefront. All that Spock could do now with this need to possess Jim was control it and, to a certain extent, contain it. Jim’s own actions were helpful in this endeavor, but Spock had necessarily made some modifications to his perceptions as well.

Prior to their encounter with Sherlock, Spock had considered his quarters on the Enterprise to be his ‘lair,’ as his mother had taught him to do with his bedroom when he was young. Now though, he had taken to claiming the entirety of the Enterprise as his lair, so Jim might freely move about the ship without it triggering any anxiety in Spock’s dragon nature. This might have caused a problem with Jim going on prolonged away missions without Spock’s accompaniment, but as regulations highly advised that the captain not go on away missions except for those of a diplomatic nature where the inclusion of the First Officer was a logical choice, any modifications that this might have required only brought their crew more in line with Starfleet’s standard procedures.

Turning the whole ship into his lair did create another problem, as his draconic nature did not care for so many different people wandering around in his lair. So Spock had taken to considering the Enterprise crew his ‘treasure’ as well. Jim had expressed some concern over this line of thinking, pointing out that it would be less than ideal for Spock dragon side to assert itself every time someone transferred assignments. But Spock assured him that it was not each individual member of the crew that was his ‘treasure,’ but rather the whole of the crew as a single multi-faceted and changing entity. Only Jim remained separate from this. Jim had observed then, in a wry tone that suggested he was joking, that this made it doubly a shame that he was not able to sleep with members of the crew, as Spock’s draconic senses could not possibly object to one of his treasures “getting it on” with another. Spock had merely raised one eyebrow in response, unwilling to admit to how much the thought disturbed him.

He attempted to follow that train of thought back to its origin, because Jim’s comment, though intended in jest, should be accurate: one piece of treasure should not pose a high security risk of stealing another piece. Contrariwise, that should also explain his severe emotional reaction earlier today when he had gone to visit Jim only to find him on a vid com with Jack, flirting. Intellectually, Spock was aware that such actions were meaningless and that neither Jack nor Jim harbored any serious romantic or sexual interest in the other, but it would be… understandable, perhaps, that his baser nature might assume these actions were a sign that Jack was attempting to ‘steal’ Jim from him. However, Spock could find no difference in his reaction to these two incidents, except in degree of intensity. But his attempts to go directly to the root cause of his response were unfruitful, as it was still tied up in a way that made it difficult to sort out. He would have to continue to work his way slowly inward instead.

The friendship he felt for Jim had not been easy to admit to, but it was something that he now embraced fully. If he could make such accommodations as he had for his dragon nature, then it was only logical that he do so as well for his human nature which made up 49.22% more of his genetic make-up than the former. Though Spock continued to behave in a way that befitted a Vulcan, he also ceased denying, to himself at least, his need for companionship, and, on very rare occasions, emotional support – indeed, it would be illogical and therefore un-Vulcan to deny a need when it existed. Jim proved himself to be exemplary in helping Spock to fulfill both these needs, and seemed consistently pleased to be able to do so.

That pleasure should not have been as unexpected as Spock found it to be, as of all the beings Spock had associated with, Jim was possibly the only one who not only accepted all that Spock was, but seemed to hold a positive regard for all of it. Nyota had accepted Spock as he was, as did most of the crew of the Enterprise, but there was no denying that there were some aspects of his personality that she would have made different, give the ability to do so, and Spock believed that even his own mother had sometimes been hurt by Spock’s choice to live as a full Vulcan. Spock did not fault any of them for that; he knew himself to be far from perfect, and it was human nature to wish to be able to change things that weren’t perfect even if they were acceptable as they were. But since the conclusion of the _Narada_ incident, Spock had never once got the impression that Jim wished Spock to be anything other than exactly what he was. Even when he was clearly frustrated by Spock’s actions, which was not an infrequent occurrence, though it occurred much less frequently than should have been logically predicted given their disparate personality types.

Respect, trust, possessiveness, and friendship. But these were all ways that Spock had already been aware that he regarded Jim, and none of which explained Spock’s current unbalanced state. It appeared, to borrow a human expression, that they had combined together to create a whole that was greater than the sum of their parts, though Spock did not currently know what that whole was. So he dug deeper into his mind, analyzing not only overarching impressions, but also each component memory or thought which made them up. As he observed these many components, and it seemed as though he had carefully stored away every time that Jim had brushed his hand against Spock’s and made a note of the exact pattern of the crinkles around Jim’s eyes when he smiled and memorized the precise cadence and cause of each of Jim’s different laughs, a clear pattern emerged. A pattern that confirmed the very hypothesis that Spock was attempting to disprove.

It was not as though Spock had an inherent objection to this particular type of hypothesis, like he might have had some years ago. Nor did he find Jim to be an inherently objectionable object of this… emotion. Spock merely believed that Jim did not, and would not, reciprocate it, perhaps toward anyone given his preferred lifestyle and certainly not toward Spock himself. But Spock’s illogical wishing that it might be otherwise would not change the fact of the situation.

Spock was in love with Jim.

+1

In the years to come, the crew of the _Kirom_ would not often speak of the battle they lost that day. Not because they lost it, for there was honor even in the losing of a battle to a superior opponent, so long as that battle was fought well. And surely, despite his outward appearance, this was a superior opponent, a kin to the serpent of Xol, whom Kahless the Unforgettable himself slew. Or perhaps, it was said in whispers, this was no disguised serpent at all, but _qul Qun_ , reborn from his own ashes and come to seek vengeance on his creations for their treachery. In either case, there might have been honor in losing to such an opponent, had their enemy not stolen their honor through treachery of his own.  For, while he dispatched every Klingon in his way, it was discovered afterward that he did not kill a single one of them.

Spock, for his part, was aware of none of this. He was aware of very little at all, for the moment, aside from the fact that these horrid thieves, who had stolen his treasure and now attempted to stand between him and it, were falling as he passed them, presumably dead. He had completely forgotten that at the 48 hour mark of Jim’s kidnapping by Klingons, Dr. McCoy had, per the captain’s standing order, relieved Spock of his standard issue phaser and replaced it with one that did not have higher setting than stun. This had been deemed the safest contingency plan, as there was no telling what Spock would resort to when deprived of any sort of weapon.

It had been precisely 56 hours, 32 minutes, and 13 seconds since Jim was first kidnapped, and 17 minutes and 6 seconds since Spock had first beamed aboard the Klingon ship and lost any control whatsoever over his draconic instincts, when Spock finally made his way into the room where Jim was being held. It took a further two seconds to fire his weapon at the three Klingons in the room, and one second to cross over to the unconscious Jim and place his hand against the bare skin of the side of Jim’s face – not on his psi-points so much as covering them completely – and to feel Jim’s unusually faint, but present mental signature, confirming that he was still alive. Then, for the first time in 56 hours, 32 minutes, and 22 seconds Spock found his thinking… not completely clear of the influence of his draconic instincts, but clear enough that the remains were controllable by his Vulcan discipline.

It was fortunate, Spock would reflect later when he had the time to do so, that in this instance his memory was unaffected by his brief break from rationality. A blackout would have undoubtedly resulted in him taking a few extra moments to assess the situation and order a beam out, moments that he did not know whether or not Jim had to spare at present.

In the Enterprise’s transporter room they were greeted by Lieutenant Kyle – both Commander Scott and Ensign Chekov had expressed a desire to be the one’s manning the transporter during this mission, but Spock had decided their skills would be of more use on the bridge – the security team that had been originally assembled to accompany Spock on the rescue mission, but had been abandoned in the transporter room when Spock had beamed over, on Spock’s insistence that they would only get in his way – further proof of Spock’s clouded thinking at the time, though in retrospect Spock was 98.9% certain that his assessment had been an accurate one – and Dr. McCoy and his medical team. It was this last group that Spock approached, still cradling Jim in his arms. With as much gentleness as he could manage without sacrificing due haste, Spock placed Jim on the stretcher that McCoy had had the good sense to bring, and the medics were immediately off to sickbay as quickly as was prudent. Spock followed in their wake, just remembering to dismiss the security personnel back to their stations as he left.

McCoy barked a few orders to his staff, but quickly turned his attention on to Spock when he came up alongside the doctor. “What the hell did those bastards do to Jim?”

“I do not know the extent of it, but when I arrived the Captain was strapped into a chair and they appeared to be using a mind-sifter on him.” McCoy swore loudly. “However, I can confirm that Captain Kirk still has a mental presence and, though muted, it seems largely unchanged from normal.”

“Well, that’s a good sign, isn’t it?” McCoy asked.

“It is inconclusive,” Spock replied. “But it is a better sign than some of the possible alternatives would have been.”

“I’ll take it,” McCoy responded, though Spock was less than clear on what, precisely he was taking. Spock was saved from having to ask for clarification, however, as at just that moment they arrived at sick bay – it was located fairly close to the transporter room for incidents such as the present one. McCoy followed the rest of his team in, but faltered when he realized that Spock had stopped just outside the doorway.

“Aren’t you coming?” he asked.

“We are still inadvisably close to Klingon space with an, admittedly currently largely disabled, Bird-of-Prey within immediate range,” Spock temporized, acutely aware of the numerous times in the prior 1.28 days that McCoy had threatened to have him declared emotionally compromised and therefore medically unfit for duty. The only reason that the doctor had not followed through on these threats was, though Spock’s search endeavors might have been charitably termed as obsessive, they were also highly effective. That, and also the very real concern of what Spock might have done had he been blocked from his attempts to find Jim. But, now that Jim had been located and returned to the _Enterprise_ , there was a possibility the McCoy might make good on those threats.

McCoy scrutinized Spock for a moment – a very short moment, out of respect for the urgency of the situation at hand – before saying, “Ah, hell. I guess if you’ve regained enough sanity to willingly pull yourself away from your ‘treasure’ in there, then you’re sane enough to command the ship. They let Jim do it on a regular basis and God knows he’s got more than a few screws loose.”

Spock responded to this, good-natured, slight on the captain’s character with a quirk of an eyebrow. “I will be back as soon as I am able.”

“Course you will. Interfering hobgoblins,” The last was muttered under McCoy’s breath as he turned away and continued on into sick bay, which Spock took as his own cue to continue on to his destination as well.

Dealing with and gaining surrender from the Klingon captain ended up being just difficult enough not to be suspicious. The only anomalous thing about the whole conversation was the Klingon captain repeatedly calling Spock something that the Universal Translator claimed meant snake. Nyota, listening to the untranslated version of the audio, as she always did when she was at least passably fluent in the language being spoken, looked fairly impressed by the title, so Spock tempered his reactions accordingly, making a mental note to ask Nyota for a more accurate translation during the mission debrief later.

One hour and nineteen point six minutes later Spock judged them far enough from the Neutral Zone to be out of any reasonable expectation of danger, and he stood the ship down from yellow alert.

“Lieutenant Uhura, please send a message to Starfleet Command, letting them know that Captain Kirk has been retrieved and is currently receiving medical attention. Furthermore, they can expect a full report from me within 24 hours,” Spock commanded.

“Yes sir,” Nyota said.

Spock considered for a moment, then added, “After you’ve finished that, send a message to Jack Harkness, alerting him to the Captain’s status as well. Let him know that his information was very helpful in retrieving him.”

Nyota favored him with a brief smile of approval. “Of course. I still can’t believe Jack slept with a Klingon.”

“Have you met Jack?” Sulu noted with wry amusement. “I’d be more surprised if he hadn’t.”

“I’m not surprised that he would, I just don’t know how managed to find the opportunity. Or, given what I’ve heard about Klingon mating rituals, how he walked away without any scars. The mind boggles,” Nyota clarified.

“I am agreeing with Sulu; clearly you have not met Jack,” Chekov added. “Besides, how do you know he does not have any scars?”

“Because I actually have met him, and believe you me, if that man had scars he’d be showing them off,” Nyota retorted, which elicited a noise of agreement and concession from Chekov.

The conversation was hardly professional, and not particularly appropriate for officers on duty with work to do, in Spock’s opinion. Jim didn’t exactly encourage this sort of discourse when he was on the bridge, but he did fairly actively allow it. His reasoning was that these causal interaction helped build group cohesion, and also either relieved tedium during relatively inactive shifts, or relieved stress immediately after (and on rare occasion, during) the more fraught ones, which increased focus and productivity in the members of the crew from more emotionally volatile species, such as humans. As they were unlikely to ever do a study of the matter and collect empirical evidence as to the effectiveness, or not, of these methods, Spock had conceded to Jim’s greater knowledge of everyday emotions and their effects.

Jim would have also found this conversation in particular diverting, as he often enjoyed sharing some of the more outlandish anecdotes of Jack’s sexual exploits. Spock had been somewhat… perturbed by this fascination initially, until Jim had explained to him in private one evening that he had some vague hopes that exposure to stories of a real ‘galactic playboy,’ might cause the exaggerated rumors of Jim’s own conquests to die down some in comparison. Spock had doubts about the effectiveness of this plan as well, but as Jack was more than happy to share the stories himself to anyone who would listen, Spock concluded no privacy was being violated, and therefore no harm done.

In honor of Jim’s preferences, Spock waited another moment after Nyota’s last comment before speaking, to be certain that his interjection wouldn’t be taken as some sort of implicit censure of the conversation. He ran one last check in with all stations to be certain that there was nothing that required his immediate attention, or might require it in short order, then excused himself to check on the Captain in sick bay, leaving Sulu with the conn.

Upon his arrival in sick bay, he found McCoy in the front room, either running tests or reviewing the results thereof. Spock took that as a moderately positive sign. There was no proof that whatever tests the doctor was running weren’t related to Jim’s injuries – in fact, Spock estimated an 83.67% chance that that was precisely who they were for – however, Spock was also certain that McCoy wouldn’t have left Jim’s side unless Jim was stable.

McCoy looked up when Spock entered, and held one finger up in the air momentarily, which Spock had learned was a human sign indicating that the other party should wait briefly. “Hold on just a minute,” he said redundantly, and then focused his attention fully on his computer once more.

Spock waited for 2.19 minutes before McCoy finished what he was working on. “Alright, let’s go see Jim.” McCoy lead Spock back to one of sick bays semi-private rooms, in fact the same semi-private room in which Jim had recovered from his near death due to radiation poisoning. Jim was lying in the same bed he had back then as well, his outward appearance one of peaceful sleep that could belie a whole host of internal issues, such as near death from acute radiation poisoning.

Spock found he did not appreciate the congruence.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” McCoy asked him.

Spock raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I would prefer it in whichever order would present the most logical dissemination of information. However, do not strain yourself in the attempt.”

“Har, har,” McCoy replied, giving Spock a dirty look. Then his posture visibly straightened and he dropped into a more professional mode. “Physically there wasn’t too much wrong with him: a number of scrapes and bruises, but they seem to be the result of general rough handling rather than any sort of attempt at torture. The worst of it was a fracture in his radius, but that’s been healed already. I’ll have him wear a cast for the next day or two, just to remind him to be gentle with it for a bit.

“The mind-sifter was what had me more worried, I’ll admit, but he doesn’t appear to have any of the characteristic damage to his brain structures that I would expect to see from someone exposed to the higher levels of that goddamned torture machine, nor any of the anomalous neural activity.”

“What, then, is the bad news?” Spock prompted. If Jim was neither physically nor mentally damaged, then what had happened to him?

“Well, I said he doesn’t have any anomalous brain activity because technically he doesn’t. His brain scans, which I was looking at just before we came in here, show the kind of brain activity I would expect from an awake and alert human of his gender and approximate age.” Spock stared at McCoy and waited for him to continue. “The thing of it is,” McCoy said hesitantly, as though he could puzzle out his own words if he spoke them slowly enough, “Jim hasn’t woken up once since he got here.”

“How is that possible?” Spock asked.

“Don’t you think if I knew the answer to that, I‘d be doing something about it?” McCoy snapped. “I’m running every test I can think of, and they’ve all come back negative. He just can’t wake up, for some reason.”

“Or won’t,” Spock said, suddenly struck by a possibility.

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“If Jim has not returned to consciousness, then the two possibilities are he either cannot do so, or he will not. If your medical testing has eliminated the former as any explanation, then logically it must be the latter. To that end, I have a theory, if I may.”

“Go ahead; at this point I’m open to suggestions,” McCoy said.

“At present, there is much that remains unknown about the Klingon mind-shifter and how it works. One current hypothesis, a hypothesis that admittedly remains untested given doing do would be highly unethical to say the least, is that the mental discipline practiced by telepathic species such as Vulcans may be able to impede or even completely subvert the mind-shifter in its purpose.” Spock paused for a moment here to allow the doctor to ask any questions he might have, but McCoy impatiently waved him on.

“Though I cannot speak with any great expertise as to the mental disciplines of other species, the techniques used by Vulcans can be sorted into one of three categories. The first would be those techniques that can only be used by Vulcans, due to species-specific brain structures or chemistry. The second set could potentially be used by any being with sufficient telepathic ability. And the third could be used by any member of any sapient species, regardless of their telepathic ability.”

“Good Lord, you’ve been teaching Jim Vulcan voodoo,” McCoy said.

“Vulcans do not practice voodoo, Doctor,” Spock corrected. “Besides, a number of the techniques we’ve covered are markedly similar to ones used by certain human cultures. The Captain had expressed on numerous occasions concern over a potential situation where we might need to touch when I did not have proper control over my mental shields. I judged the concern to be a valid one, so began instructing him in ways he might protect his own mind from telepathic interference.” It wasn’t until after a number of these lessons that Spock had learned that Jim wasn’t worried about protecting his own mind from Spock’s as much as protecting Spock’s mind from Jim’s, a consideration that Spock found to be both culturally sensitive and completely ridiculous – even before Spock’s regard for Jim had deepened to his current degree, the touch of his friend’s mind could never be considered unwelcome. However, once they had started reviewing these techniques it had seemed prudent to continue, as they were very likely to be useful at some point over the course of their five year mission.

“I admit, I would expect this degree of mental withdrawal to beyond Jim’s capability, given our progress together – the necessity for a still mind being fairly opposed to Jim’s dynamic nature – however…”

 “Nothing like a life or death shit storm to bring out Jim’s inner prodigy,” McCoy finished.

“Indeed.” Though a bit more colorful than Spock would have worded it, he could not argue with the general sentiment.

“Okay, so Jim locked himself inside his own head to protect himself from the Klingons and their mind-shifter. That doesn’t explain why he won’t wake up now.”

“We can’t presume that Jim is even aware that he has been rescued at this point. In fact, depending on how deeply he has hidden himself, he might not even be aware that the mind-shifter is not still attacking him.” Though Spock would prefer to find that Jim was not quite as far into his own mind as that; the deeper he was, the harder it would be to pull him out again.

“Then how do you propose we get him out of his own head?” McCoy asked.

“A Vulcan mind meld,” Spock said, a quite rational suggestion, so there was really no call for McCoy to be looking at him like he was, quote, ‘out of his Vulcan mind.’

“Those stupid Vulcan head tricks are what got Jim into this situation in the first place.”

“To the contrary, Vulcan head tricks, as you call them, are possibly the only things that kept Jim sane and with his personality intact after being subjected to the mind-shifter,” Spock retorted, having to clamp down on his emotional controls to stay calm at the mere thought of all that dynamic mind erased forever.

McCoy made a vague sort of noise that typically was meant to acknowledge the truth of Spock’s words without actually conceding the point. Spock continued. “Besides, I believe it’s fairly common in medicine for the nature of the cure to be determined by the nature of the ailment.”

McCoy crossed his arms and considered for a few minutes, his instinctive aversion to telepathy warring with the fact that he didn’t have any other ideas to work off at the moment. “Would it be safe?” he finally asked.

“I would not be suggesting it if I thought it would involve exposing the Captain to undue risk.”

“I know that,” McCoy said, waving one hand in the air as though to brush away Spock’s reassurances. “What I was asking is if it would be safe for you; one patient is more than enough.”

“If my hypothesis about the cause of Jim’s condition is correct, then I will be in no danger whatsoever,” Spock told him.

“And if you’re wrong?”

“At that point it becomes difficult to say what the exact level of danger prior to the meld, as I don’t know what state his mind is in. However, I judge the overall risk to my person to be minimal.”

“And you really think this will fix Jim?” McCoy asked.

“Again, it is impossible to be certain until the exact cause has been determined beyond a doubt. If Jim really is hiding in his own mind because he believes himself to still be being held captive by the Klingons, then a mind meld should allow me to communicate with him and let him know that he has been rescued. If there is some other cause for his current ailment, then at the very least I should be able to ascertain a general direction for your tests to uncover the root of the problem,” Spock said.

McCoy looked undecided for another 1.32 minutes and then threw his hands up. “Fine, do it.”

Spock nodded and then turned to look at Jim again, something that he had been avoiding doing aside from his first glance when he had walked into the room. Normally Jim seemed as though he was always in motion, whether in the bold exploration when a landing party had disembarked on some new planet or just the light drumming of his fingers during quiet shared evenings of paperwork. Even when not moving, there was something in Jim’s natural vibrancy that gave the impression of doing so. Seeing him so completely still, especially when considered in the context of the two other occasions that Spock had seen him thus, was disquieting to Spock’s mental controls.

Spock had lifted his hand up and was preparing to line his fingers up to Jim’s psi-points when McCoy interrupted. “How long should I expect this to take?”

“As I said, it is impossible to be certain without first melding with Jim to ascertain the exact situation. I will endeavor to be as quick as is prudent, but at this point I can offer no more guarantee than it is highly unlikely that it will take more than a few hours.”

McCoy’s eyes narrowed, clearly unhappy with this answer. “I want you to come back up and give me some kind of status report if you think it’s going to take longer than an hour. I’ll slap you awake myself if I have to.”

“A slap is used to wake one from a healing trance; in this instance merely calling my name should suffice,” Spock informed him and McCoy made a vague sort of response that Spock chose to interpret as acknowledgment and agreement.

Spock waited in additional 2 seconds to allow McCoy to air in any other comments or concerns, then, when none were forthcoming, placed his fingers to Jim’s psi-points.

“My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts.”

It was immediately apparent that Spock’s hypothesis had been correct.  Directly within the boundaries of Jim’s mind there was a wall that resembled, in so much that mental constructs could resemble physical objects, one of the _Enterprise’s_ outer hulls.  It was a fascinating insight into Jim’s psyche, if not a wholly unexpected one.  The wall itself must have been at what was projecting the impression of Jim’s mental presence that Spock had had, as everything that must have existed beyond it was completely absent from his awareness.  Jim apparently had some ability to sense what was going on beyond his mental shields, despite their thickness, because very shortly after Spock entered the wall wavered and weakened, allowing Spock to feel a wash of _surprise-happy-safe-elation-Spock!_ from beyond.  But before Spock could think his task would be quicker and easier than expected, those positive emotions were tamped down and replaced by a sense of _wary-distrust-lie-trap_.

_This is not a trap, Jim,_ Spock projected, _I am here_.  He built up his own mental signature as strong as he could without verging into being threatening, though he was uncertain that would help.  Prior to this incident Spock would have been quite confident in asserting that Jim lacked the skill to be able to distinguish and recognize individual mental signatures, and even with this sudden burst of capability there was no telling if he could do so now.  That wasn’t even to mention the fact that Jim was aware of the fact mental signatures could be faked by a sufficiently talented telepath, Spock having told him so previously, but he may not be aware that the Klingon mind-shifter lacked the necessary sophistication to do so.

In order to further convince Jim of the truth of his identity, Spock began shifting through his memories of time spent with Jim and selected the more recent or more important ones to offer as proof. He was careful not to push the memories against the wall, as it might be construed as an attack of sorts, he simply presented them for Jim to peruse at his leisure.

Jim latched onto the memories and examined them closely, but he still seemed dissatisfied. Jim lacked the precision of speech in this mental plane that Spock had, but he still managed to impress upon Spock the idea that the memories could not serve as any proof since they could have been just as easily fetched from Jim’s own mind. It was an understandable concern, even if doing as Jim suggested would have been quite impossible at the moment with his shields up, and it lead to an interesting conundrum.  In order for any piece of information or memory that Spock could offer of to serve as proof of his identity to be one Jim could independently verify, it would necessarily have to be something that Spock theoretically could have pulled from Jim’s mind.  Anything that Spock could not have pulled from Jim’s mind, due to Jim having no knowledge of it, would not do as proof because of that very lack of knowledge.  Spock pondered this issue for what seemed a long time, though when he checked his time sense it had only been 5.13 minutes in the world outside the meld.

It was a well-known fact that Vulcans did not lie, though not relying falsehoods was probably a more accurate translation of the Vulcan maxim.  It was because of that small but distinct difference that some humans had created a new interpretation that had then spread to other non-telepathic species to the point that it was almost accept as fact in a large portion of the Federations population – a truism, Jim called it, despite the fact that in Spock’s experience such “truisms” were at best oversimplification, when they weren’t complete fabrications born of illogical human fantasies.  This interpretation stated that Vulcans could and did lie when speaking aloud but in their mental communication lies were impossible.

This was a ridiculous assumption, of course, especially when one took into consideration the human notion that withholding information was tantamount to a lie.  Hiding part of one’s mental landscape was one of the simplest tasks that Vulcan children were taught, though the levels of difficulty did increase as the shields grew stronger, as Jim’s were, or when one was attempting to disguise the fact that anything was hidden at all.  Blatant falsehoods were possible as well, and for all that post-Surakian Vulcans avoided these mental falsehoods as much as they did verbal ones, they still had knowledge of the practice from ancient times and from other telepathic species.  To give the human theorists credit where they were due however, there were serious limits on the possibilities of these falsehoods.  Certain things, worded thoughts or shallow emotions, were not exactly simple to fake, but were certainly less difficult.  Other things, such as memories or thoughts that had not coalesced into words, were harder to manage.  The general rule was the more complex something was, the more difficult it was to manufacture a convincing facsimile.

But the most difficult mental falsehood of all, one that often resulted in the teller becoming convinced of the truth of their own lies when it didn’t result in a complete psychotic break, was to feign at a powerful emotion one did not feel.  The problem lay in the oft-cited human claim that emotions were ‘messy,’ something that was demonstrably true, not just in the effect they had on the world around them when people thoughtlessly acted on them, but in their very composition. These kinds of emotions did not exist as a separate entity so much as a complex network of thoughts, memories, other lesser emotions, and subconscious desires – the last of these being problematic to fake just on their own, due to the inherent contradiction of consciously creating subconscious desires – all of which the liar would have to create and weave together if he or she wanted their lies be convincing.

This could be used to his advantage, Spock decided, though he did not do so lightly. After all, the only emotion he possessed that was both strong enough to be convincingly unable to be faked and would also serve as reasonable proof that Spock could not be Jim’s Klingon captors was the love he bore for Jim. Too, it would not be enough to merely offer the protective rage engendered by Spock’s draconic nature, or even that in combination with the logical regard Spock held for him as a superior commanding officer and generally compassionate and intelligent sapient being. It would require that Spock show all of what he felt, with a special emphasis on the acute, romantic, ‘messy,’ human side of it. Just the suggestion of being so emotionally open with another who was not one’s bonded partner was very nearly repugnant in Vulcan culture. And on top of that were the thought-out and well-reasoned arguments Spock had for not confessing any of the truth of this to Jim ever, not the least because Spock had no desire to burden Jim with emotions that he didn’t and couldn’t return.

Unfortunately, Spock could see no other option, especially as time may not be on his side in this case. He hadn’t mentioned it to McCoy, because there seemed to be no reason to whip the doctor into an even more emotional state over a possible outcome he could do nothing to affect, but there was a real chance that Jim’s barriers had not gone up entirely in time. Certainly, neither McCoy’s scans nor Spock’s own telepathic senses had detected any sort of mental damage done to Jim by the mind-shifter, but the walls in Jim’s head could be hiding that damage inside of them alongside Jim himself. The strength and resilience of those walls did seem to indicate a definite limit to the potential severity of any mental injuries, but Spock could not be certain what that limit was, given his own lack of knowledge in that area. If Spock had to guess, which he could do, he just preferred not to be put into a situation where guessing was necessary, he would say that any injuries, should they exist, could not be anything beyond Spock’s own basic ability to help heal, but it was also possible that Jim would need the services of a mind healer. If that was the case, it was imperative that Spock discover it so the _Enterprise_ could set course to New Vulcan immediately to get Jim medical attention. It would be the height of illogical, then, for Spock to delay because he was ashamed of the depth of his feelings; _Shame_ said a voice that rang in his mental space with his father’s deep tones, _is merely another emotion, and it too should be cast out._

Despite this pressing concern, Spock did allow himself enough time to reorganize his mental shields, so that the controls around the love he felt were unattached from any of the others, and could be easily raised or lowered. This made the shields weaker, of course, and meant Spock would be susceptible to reacting emotionally if placed under strain, even more so than he normally was, but it was the ideal arrangement for the current situation. Once he felt sufficiently prepared, he let his shields drop.

It would be difficult to say who was more surprised by the outpouring of emotion that followed. Certainly Jim could not have been expecting it, given that he had still thought Spock to be the mind-shifter attempting to trick him, but Spock, who had only examined this emotion before by looking at its separate components, was finding that, as he previously postulated, the whole really was far greater than the sum of its parts.

Jim’s wall came down, all at once but with a hesitant feel to it, presumably because Jim still believed it to be a trap of some kind. _If it seems too good to be true, that’s usually because it is_ , was projected from Jim’s mind, which Spock assumed was a saying of some sort; it had the consistency of a thought that naturally existed in verbal form, rather than one that had been deliberately verbalized by the thinker – in fact, Spock was increasingly sure that Jim still lacked the precision of skill necessary for the latter.

_You have been rescued from captors on multiple occasions before, I fail to see what about this particular instance would have you so incredulous_ , Spock projected back.

_SPOCK!_ Jim cried gladly, matched by a surging of delight.

Now that he was certain that Jim recognized him, and would not resurrect his shields to hide behind again, Spock went to reinstate his own controls over his emotions. The original exposure may have been necessary – indeed, Spock could sense some light mental wear from the mind-shifter, though fortunately nothing that wouldn’t heal on its own – but it seemed unwise to subject Jim to these unwanted emotions any longer. In the instant before he could, however, a second wave of emotion burst forth from Jim, and this time there was no question who was more surprised.

It hit Spock and twined effortlessly with his own exposed emotions, creating a sort of synesthesia of the mind. It was warmth and light and sweetness and the gentle strum of a Vulcan lute. It was the safe haven in a storm and an oasis in the desert. It was boundless love, freely given and welcomingly received. It was all these things and more, but above all, it was pure and unabashed joy.

Part of Spock, a part that Jim relentlessly encouraged, felt as though he could and would like to stay in this place forever, but reason and logical reasserted themselves. By that point Spock had been in the meld for 32.7 minutes, and he had little doubt that McCoy would follow through on his threats to rouse Spock once an hour had passed. It would be better, then, to break the meld now while he could do so properly and at his own pace and return later when they had ample time to explore the world their minds had effortlessly created.

_Don’t-leave-stay-not-alone-come-back-here-forever,_ was the frantic impression Jim sent out, sensing Spock’s intentions.

_I can hardly come back if I don’t leave in the first place_ , Spock protested.

Jim produced a burble of mental laughter at that, shaded with ample fondness. _Promise?_

_We may meld again as soon as we have an opportunity,_ Spock replied, sending Jim some of his own desire to do so to underscore the promise. Satisfied, if not precisely happy, Jim allowed Spock to pull his, now extremely flimsy seeming emotional control back over his feelings for Jim and disengage the meld.

Of course, once he did so, he found himself inches away from Jim’s gently smiling face, and was, not for the first time, distracted by how very blue Jim’s eyes were. Jim seemed as distracted by Spock as Spock was by Jim, though he was rather less speechless. “Can I kiss you?”

“Goddammit, Jim!”

Suddenly put in mind of the doctor’s presence, Spock stood up straight, removing his hand from Jim’s face and bringing to clasp the other behind his back. Jim sat up straighter as well, and flashed a grin at McCoy, looking far too pleased to be embarrassed or sheepish, the way he normally was when confronted by that particular tone of McCoy’s. “Hey Bones! I didn’t see you there.”

“I hope to God not,” McCoy grumbled. “We’ve talked about this; I’m want to know nothing about your sex life, beyond the bare minimum required to be your doctor. Even that part I’m not so sure about.”

Jim regarded McCoy with an expression that was caught somewhere between amused and quizzical. “You know, if a kiss is your idea of sex, then I think I may have figured out why you’re so grumpy all the time.”

McCoy’s jaw worked for a minute, but then he seemed to give Jim up as a lost cause because his next comment was addressed to Spock. “Anything wrong with his head? Anything new, I mean.”

“That cuts deep, Bones,” Jim said, sounding not the least bit hurt. Both Spock and McCoy ignored him.

“My hypothesis as to the problem turned out to be correct. Now that I’ve had a chance to see in Jim’s mind and he has returned to consciousness, I judge that any remaining damage caused by the mind-shifter to be minimal and capable of healing on its own, given some time,” Spock informed him, directing the latter comment to Jim as well.

McCoy nodded, then turned to Jim. “Physically you’re more or less healed up now as well. Your arm will probably be sore for the next couple of days – which means you should be _gentle_ on it – and you’re a bit dehydrated, but as long as you get plenty of fluids, you’ll be fine. I want you off-duty for the next 24 hours, at which point you’ll come back here and let me give you a last look over before I clear you, but for now you’re free to go.”

“What, after all the time you spend nagging me to come into sick bay, and now you’re kicking me out just like that?” Jim said. Spock initially took the comment for more of the good-natured bantering that the two of them were prone to, but McCoy seemed to see some deeper meaning to Jim’s words that Spock had missed, for he turned narrowed eyes onto Jim. In return, Jim’s expression took on an imploring cast.

“Fine,” McCoy bit out eventually. “You get ten minutes to work whatever this is out, then I want you to take it somewhere else, got it?”

“Got it,” Jim confirmed cheerily. “You’re the best, Bones.”

“Yeah and don’t you forget it,” McCoy grumbled, exiting the room and closing the door behind him, leaving Jim and Spock alone together.

Jim turned his cheery expression on Spock. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

“If by ‘like this’ you mean in sick bay as you are recovering from serious injuries, then I find I am in agreement,” Spock said.

“Actually, I kind of meant that as a joke, but I can get on board with no more near death experiences. That goes for you too, mister,” Jim said, the last words in a tone of mock-sternness, though Spock suspected the sentiment behind them was very real.

“I shall endeavor to avoid them,” Spock assured him, and Jim’s face lightened with a smile.

“So… can I kiss you?” Jim repeated.

“I confess, I would not have expected you to ask for permission first.” All Spock’s observations of Jim’s romantic and sexual encounters showed him to be very decisive in that regard.

“About that,” Jim said, flushing red. He went to scratch the back of his head, which Spock judged to be a nervous tick rather than the product of a real itch, as when confronted with his cast, Jim merely placed his arm back in his lap, and didn’t attempt to use the other instead. “I normally would just sort of read the mood, but I may be being a bit extra cautious in your case, since I might have kind of kissed you without your permission once before.”

“I do not recall that,” Spock said, searching his memories for the incident.

“No, you wouldn’t. You were unconscious at the time.” From there Jim recounted the story of the time that Jim and Spock had been sent back in time to the early twenty-first century and encountered Jim’s ancestor Emma Swan. The story was one Spock was familiar with, though Jim’s revelation at the end that he had broken the curse with true love’s kiss was new.

“Your report on that incident said that it was Emma’s magic that returned us to Delta Cancri VII from past Earth. You made no mention of a kiss.” Even if Spock were in a habit of not noticing things, which he certainly was not, he hardly would have missed that.

“And it was her first-hand experience with her own magic that let me know that the kiss was going to work. I didn’t lie, I implied.” Spock raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so I lied a little bit, but there weren’t a lot of good options right then. It’s not like I was going to say to Uhura ‘you’re welcome for saving your boyfriend; I did it by planting true love’s kiss on him.’ I did briefly think about pretending like it was true and completely friendly and platonic love’s kiss, but I wasn’t really sure I could sell that. Besides, I didn’t want to lie about my feelings.”

“Like you have been lying about them for,” Spock consulted the few vague memories he had picked up from Jim during their meld, “the past year at least.”

“A year, or two,” Jim acknowledged briefly before moving on. “Besides, that definitely isn’t lying, that’s just declining to share. I’m allowed to keep my private feelings to myself if I want to.”

“Did you want to?” Spock asked. He was reminded of his own reasons for declining to share his own feelings toward Jim, reasons that seemed pale and insignificant in comparison to what they had just shared in the meld, but Jim might not see it that way with regards to his own emotions.

“I did when I thought you didn’t love me back in that way,” Jim said easily, but almost immediately afterward his features took on a pale cast of uncertainty. “You do, right? I didn’t misinterpret all that, did I?”

“I find I feel a great many things for you, romantic love chief among them.” Spock did not allow himself to feel embarrassed by the sheer emotionalism of his reply but he did note the need to find an opportunity to return his shields to their rightful state as soon as possible; this, like many things, was unfortunately something much easier undone than done. Besides, Spock did not see the logical in getting embarrassed over anything that clearly caused Jim so much pleasure.

“Good, that’s good,” Jim said. “That asking for a kiss would have been really awkward otherwise.”

This time Spock really did feel a faint tinge of embarrassment before ruthlessly suppressing it. “I have something that I should tell you with regards to that as well. You are aware, I assume, that the reason humans find the act of pressing their lips together pleasurable is because of the unusual density of nerve receptors they have located there.”

“And Vulcans don’t?” Jim hazarded. “If you don’t like kissing, that’s okay; we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” An offer that Spock was sure Jim made in earnest, if not exactly earnestly.

Spock considered reminding Jim that he had actually seen Spock kiss Nyota on at least one occasion, but decided bringing up his previous relationship would be in poor taste at the moment. Instead he replied, “While you are correct that Vulcans have less sensitivity in their lips than humans, my unique physiology means that the difference is minimal.  I do enjoy the act of kissing.”

“Oh, thank God,” Jim said, and then rushed to explain, “I just _really_ like kissing.”

“I have noticed,” Spock said dryly, and a very light dusting of pink spread across Jim’s cheeks.

“I bring it up to give context to the fact that Vulcans have the greatest density of receptors for both our tactile and telepathic senses in our hands. As such, there are naturally certain cultural difference in our way of expressing affection as well.”

“Are you telling me Vulcans kiss by holding hands? Because frankly that would be adorable.”

“ _That_ ,” Spock corrected, “would be a near obscene gesture to make in public.” Jim looked exceedingly intrigued by the possibilities of this, and Spock found it more difficult than usual to turn his own mind away from those possibilities. He needed to get his emotional controls back in order, though he acknowledged that Jim’s interest might be fueling his own. “The traditionally accepted public gesture would be a light touching of fingers.”

Jim looked at Spock’s hands, then his own hands, then back at Spock, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Mr. Spock,” he said, sounding equal parts affronted and delighted. “Have you been secretly making out with me?”

“There is an element of intent that comes into play. I am fairly certain that most humans do not consider themselves to be kissing their food just because it touches their lips when they eat it.”

“One, that only means you haven’t been making out with your Science Station all shift long. Two, you clearly have never heard of indirect kissing before. And three, there was definitely emotional intent in those hand touches on my end, at least. Maybe not secretly making out, but definitely friend kisses,” Jim said, ticking each item off on his finger as he did so.

“That is not a gesture typically shared among friends.” In fact it was almost solely reserved for bondmates, but to say so at this point might reveal more than Spock wanted to at this point with regards to intentions. “Besides, your actions were intended to soothe any emotional upheaval I might be facing due to my draconic nature, and I kept my Vulcan cultural heritage separate accordingly.” Not that there hadn’t been some temptation after Spock had developed a romantic regard toward Jim, but he was much too disciplined to actually fall prey to it.

“Well, I guess the third times the charm,” Jim said, more to himself than anything. He held up his left hand – the one not currently in a cast – to Spock. “Can I kiss you?”

Perhaps Spock should have seen this offer coming, given their conversation, but Jim always had a way of surprising Spock even when doing the expected. And, to his credit, he did not falter even when Spock took slightly longer than he should have to respond; he merely kept his hand in the air and continued to stare at Spock, and this time there was no mistaking his intent.

Slowly, Spock reached out his own hand, and started with a mere brush of skin to skin, much like they had numerous times in the past. This time, though, he lowered the shields around his telepathy, allowing himself the full impact of feeling Jim when they touched.

“Woah,” Jim said. “It’s never been all tingly like that before. And warm too; I thought Vulcan body temperatures were lower than humans.”

“Somewhat, yes,” Spock said, considering. “If I recall, there is some literature that suggests that positive emotions in humans can trigger a feeling of physical warmth.”

“Huh,” Jim said, looking once again intrigued by the possibilities, though what they were in this case escaped Spock. After a moment, he looked down at this hand and frowned thoughtfully. “Am I doing this right? It’s been a long time since I was uncertain about my kissing abilities.”

Rather than answering verbally, Spock grasped Jim’s hand and coaxed it into the proper shape: the index and middle fingers held out straight with the rest of the fingers forming a fist. Spock mirrored the position with his own hand and begin running his fingers up and done Jim’s slowly and methodically, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling. Jim caught on quickly, as was typical for him, and began complimenting Spock’s strokes with his own, incorporating in twisting and curling gestures that were far more suited to private quarters that they were to the _Enterprise_ ’s sick bay, but Spock found himself too emotionally compromised at the moment to care.

What did concern him was that while Jim was clearly enjoying the experience, he was just as clearly not deriving as much pleasure from their actions as Spock was. That was easily remedied though, Spock thought as he leaned in to place his lips against Jim’s.


End file.
